


candy floss

by vitasoy (lunawhy)



Category: UNINE (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV), 青春有你 | Qing Chun You Ni
Genre: Cock Warming, Degradation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, dom!zhenning, sub!mingming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18556915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunawhy/pseuds/vitasoy
Summary: If Zhenning told Mingming he is currently reading a message Changxi sent to the group chat about lunch plans tomorrow, would Mingming believe him?





	candy floss

**Author's Note:**

> written in the same 'verse as [cotton candy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446531), but both are able to be read as stand-alones

If Zhenning told Mingming he is currently reading a message Changxi sent to the group chat about lunch plans tomorrow, would Mingming believe him?

Well, Zhenning has about three options to consider if he was to ask himself that question: 1. Mingming definitely wouldn’t believe him given the current situation, 2. Mingming would believe him because he basically believes everything Zhenning tells him, or 3. Mingming does not have the basic ability to believe anything at the moment.

Zhenning lays all his bets on the third option. With the wickedest grin possible, he looks over from his phone screen, and his eyes immediately land on Mingming’s face. Mingming’s expression is strained, his cheeks are flushed, and his bangs are matted with sweat.

“Where would you like to go for lunch tomorrow?” Zhenning asks nonchalantly. “Changxi says he wants Italian, but Guan Yue says he wants Mexican. I don’t care, so you have to decide.”

Mingming looks away, silent. He definitely heard the question and understood what Zhenning asked, but now it’s a matter of if he can form a comprehendible answer.

“Hm?” Zhenning hums, waiting, finger poised over his phone screen. When there’s no response from Mingming, those long seconds Zhenning waited filled with nothing but the sound of labored breathing, he purposely tenses the muscles in his abdomen and lower body.

The effect is immediate. Mingming moans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Answer me,” Zhenning says, voice hardening. “Make a decision. After all, isn’t that your job? To tell others what to do?” Zhenning sets down his phone momentarily, leaning forward so he can put his lips right next to Mingming’s ear, his palms flat against Mingming’s chest. “But oh, right. I forgot that you can’t do _anything._ You’re just a pretty face with a pretty body and an even prettier cock, nothing more.”

Mingming squirms hearing those words, the heat in his gut flaring. Zhenning strokes Mingming’s face gently, as if he were petting a kitten, fake concern in his eyes and a sugary smile on his lips. He sits back up, shifting his position slightly, and it causes Mingming to let out a string of soft groans.

“I wonder if I should send a picture,” Zhenning says, thinking out loud. He’s only half-joking, but his words sound just as serious as he wants them to be. “A selfie?” Zhenning looks perfectly normal right now, his shirt still buttoned up to the collar and his hair still neatly combed and gelled from the morning. “Or a picture of you?” The smile on his face spreads into a grin. “I wonder what our friends would think if they saw you right now, saw what kind of state our spoiled and precious boss is in,” Zhenning wonders, “with his face all red and sweaty and those lovely collarbones of his on display right now. Would they be able to guess what we’re doing?”

Zhenning leans down, bracing himself with his palms on Mingming’s pecs. “I, personally, would be so jealous. Being able to play with you, watch your face turn red and your body tremble as I wreck you bit by bit until you can’t even speak or think anymore--” Zhenning pauses, humming, “--it’s so much fun that maybe I should send them a video, let them hear your cries and hear you calling out my name, completely desperate and whiny.” He tenses his thighs and lower body again, rolling his hips in the smallest circle, and Mingming is helpless to the sob that rises from the back of his throat.

He’s almost the point of begging now, tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes. Zhenning has been sitting on his cock for at least the last half hour, and Mingming has had to endure every single one of Zhenning’s teasing movements, from the shifting of Zhenning’s hips to the hot pressure of Zhenning’s walls pulsing around him to the occasional slow and drawn-out up and down from Zhenning, giving Mingming hope but always letting him down the moment after.

He has also spent the last half hour with his self-control dwindling down faster and faster from trying to keep his own body still and resisting the urge to thrust up into Zhenning, resisting chasing down his own pleasure and forgetting everything that he was taught and told.

And then when Zhenning’s phone, sitting on the nightstand, started buzzing, and he actually reached over and _answered_ it, Mingming wanted to cry.

“Not much, what’re you up to?” Zhenning had answered while looking at his nails, and Mingming knew that whoever was on the line just asked Zhenning what he was doing. It was right after that Zhenning tilted his chin slightly down and glared at Mingming, the message in his eyes apparent: _Don’t you dare make a noise._

Of course, Mingming had been at least a little bit tempted. He couldn’t anticipate what Zhenning would do to punish him, but there was a possibility that it would be something else other than Zhenning sitting there, caging Mingming in place with his thighs.

But Mingming still gathered his self-control and kept his mouth shut. He stayed obedient just like he was supposed to, and exactly like what Zhenning expected out of him.

“Do you want that?” Zhenning’s question is phrased exactly like a question, but the flatness at the end of his sentence makes it sound more like a statement.

“N-No,” Mingming replies, voice croaking. He quickly switches subjects. “Italian…?”

“Hmm.” Zhenning gives him little acknowledgment, turning his attention back to his phone and typing in a few words. He sets his phone back down after several moments before he is leaning down, putting a hand on Mingming’s chin, and forcing Mingming’s head to turn and kiss him. “Good choice,” Zhenning hums against Mingming’s lips. Mingming can taste Zhenning’s smile on his tongue. Zhenning’s hands are running up Mingming’s face, fingers threading through Mingming’s hair, gripping strands and holding Mingming’s head in place as he pulls on Mingming’s lips with his teeth and swallows all the small sounds that rise from the back of Mingming’s throat.

Zhenning trails his lips down, kissing the edge of Mingming’s jaw. “You’ve done such a good job of doing what I say today,” he murmurs, that smile never having slid off of his expression. It’s the smile that makes Mingming weak just from seeing it, feeling it, tasting it. Mingming can feel the curve of Zhenning’s mouth against his throat, where it leaves a burning imprint.

It’s that moment that Zhenning moves his hips in the slowest rocking motion, still smiling against Mingming’s skin, feeling the vibrations from Mingming’s throat from the moans that escape his lips. “I love that sound,” Zhenning muses, kissing Mingming’s Adam’s apple, sinking in his teeth and relishing the small movements of Mingming’s body against his.

Mingming feels Zhenning squeeze around his cock, the sensation sending ripples of pleasure up his spine, so strong and forceful, magnified by the slight numbness in his thighs from supporting Zhenning’s weight. This is what he’s been craving all night, both physically and mentally, and finally even having a little bit of stimulation instead of teasing makes him gasp out in a sob.

The sound reverberates within the room, and Mingming’s face heats up immediately. He bites on his fist, trying to muffle the rest of the noises that escape his control, but Zhenning pulls down his wrist immediately.

“I want to hear _everything,_ ” Zhenning says, voice a harsh whisper. “I want to hear you slowly lose control, slowly break apart, slowly become a slave to your own pleasure until your mind is numb and the only thing you can do is listen to me. I want to hear _all of that,_ every single bit.”

Mingming squeezes his eyes shut, his skin burning, and nods. He hears Zhenning laugh, “Good,” his voice sweet, but his actions ruthless. Zhenning rises, his palms curving over Mingming’s lower ribs, and using his grip as leverage, he lifts his hips and promptly drops back down.

Mingming cries out loud, his words nothing but a string of garbled syllables. He’s curling his fists into the sheets around his head, wrinkling them in his clutch, his vision shaking with each up and down from Zhenning. His natural instinct is to thrust up his hips, but his thighs are weak, numbed, and the rest of his body is trembling too much for him to control it well.

“Stop,” Zhenning says, pausing his actions momentarily, looking down at Mingming expectantly. “I’m doing the work here.”

Mingming swallows down the whimper that’d threaten to escape. He winces, throat dry and slightly painful, unable to speak, so he gives a small nod.

Zhenning picks back up the pace almost immediately, completely catching Mingming off-guard, and Mingming is gasping up at the ceiling the next moment, breath shallow and rapid just like his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

The next moan from him is stretched out, sing-songy, closing off in a whimper. He can feel Zhenning gripping hotly around him every single time, causing the resulting pleasure to pool into his lower abdomen, all the blood in his body rushing there as well. His abdominal muscles tighten with each shaky breath he takes, and each time he has to consciously control the daunting urge to thrust up into Zhenning and engulf his cock in more of that enticing heat. Mingming almost wants to beg Zhenning to go faster even though Zhenning is already going at quite a fast pace. It’s just that Mingming feels all aspects of his self-control crumbling into dust, the sounds breaking free from his lips that become louder and louder every second an obvious indication of that.

Zhenning is panting, his thighs beginning to strain, his nails digging into Mingming’s skin with force. He loves feeling the trembles of Mingming’s body against his palms, loves seeing Mingming’s head thrash back and forth, loves hearing the effects of his own actions in Mingming’s voice. Zhenning feels Mingming’s back arching even higher, Mingming’s thighs and hips jerking around erratically, unable to determine if they’re able to stay still or not. He senses Mingming losing control over his own body, and it’s just more encouragement for him to go faster and harder until Mingming’s desperately clawing at the sheets and his eyes are beginning to roll to the back of his head, the pleasure racing through his veins taking over his body.

All Mingming feels now is the buzz of mind-numbing pleasure setting flame to his senses, the muscles in his lower abdomen tightening and tightening as his body gets hotter and hotter.

He doesn’t even realize he’s reaching his limit until it’s too late and his vision goes black and there are stars in his eyes and his voice is cut short, choked. For those several long seconds he is aware of nothing besides an electrifying heat racing through his body, rendering him speechless as he trembles and shakes.

After his orgasm passes, Mingming opens his eyes, and there are spots in his vision. He finds he can’t breathe well, and he coughs, blinking rapidly at the same time to clear his vision.

Zhenning has already lifted himself off, thighs slightly strained. “Are you able to sit up?” he asks, tone quite a bit more soft than previously, but there is still an edge in his voice, indicating he expects a specific answer.

“Y-Yes.” Mingming sucks in a deep breath, forcing his heartbeat to slow. His limbs are trembling as he pulls himself up, his world still a little bit unstable. Mingming’s mind is blank, coherent thought having not yet returned to him, and all he is able to do is listen to what Zhenning tells him. When he sits up and sees Zhenning sitting in front of him with his thighs open and cock reddened and still very obviously hard, he doesn’t connect the dots when his tongue begins to salivate and he sweeps it over his lips, re-wetting them.

Zhenning smiles devilishly, and it makes him all the more attractive, handsome, and alluring, and Mingming is drawn to that immediately, tempted to the point where his lips are shiny with spit and he still can’t process thought properly, because there is only one thing on his mind right now.

“Satisfied?” Zhenning asks.

“Yes,” Mingming breaths out, voice airy.

“Then make me feel the same way,” Zhenning replies. In the next second he’s tangling his fingers into Mingming’s hair and pulling on Mingming’s head, but that’s just for show, just for Zhenning to display the fact that he has power, because Mingming would’ve fallen forward and began leaving wet kisses on the insides of Zhenning’s thighs just from a single word or a single touch. That's all it takes for Zhenning to control him.

 


End file.
